“I know,” said an articulate woman lawyer in Unit 55 - Mastery level 68 - one day, “that my English is not grammatically perfect but I know my English is very fluent.”
“That’s beautiful and true,” said Lucky, seeing how she’d realized her confident nature to master a second language. He’d translate her awareness to students hoping her illumination would shine through their temerity.
He wrote on glass.
Foreign neurotic teachers lamented loss and dreams. One American’s joyful hyperactive energy regaled mentors with exhaustive stories about a stateside son. How he’d found a part-time job at Archery, a national discount chain, attended a technical school and bought a used Swedish car with a bloody knife in the trunk.
She talked a good game about writing. When it came down to the real work, she said, “I only write silly sentences.” She kept stringing word pearls on her lifeline. Positive therapy. She had a good heart.
Lucky gifted her a box of eight Honer blues harps before walking to Bursa. She was overjoyed. They were the only two deranged fools blowing.
Sometimes he blows and sometimes he sucks.
At TLC two drama queens from New Zealand and Scotland revealed personal horror stories of abandonment and neglect. Emotional histories expanded their quest for love with Turkish men confronting insecure masculine jealousies shattered by strangling mothers intent on controlling their little boys through prolonged adolescence rendering them insolvent and mute given to infantile behaviors and heartbreaking confusion in long strange fatal attractions.
Flower petals whispered, “He loves me, he loves me not.”
In Turkey divorce was seen as a failure. Shame on you, said Shame.
Marriage is a business deal with bad sex, said a heart broker, a form of volunteered slavery.
The majority of women knew their place and stayed in it. Blend in sweet thing. We’re in this for the long haul honey-bunny.
An emotional graveyard bloomed where mothers controlled and manipulated their offspring’s behavior, attitudes and counterfeit freedom with a heavy dictatorial hand called love. Working on love’s chain gang.
One was different. After seven months of marriage she filed divorce papers. She’d believed him in the beginning.
“I feel so much better. He lied to me. He courted me with sweet words and I thought, or believed I thought or thought I believed he had an open mind but I was disappointed because he wasn’t honest...so after weeks then months I saw his, how do you say, irresponsibility, how he wouldn’t contribute his heart to me, to our relationship and then, when I tried to talk to him he was closed to me, he shut down emotionally and I was working and trying to keep the flat up and work on our relationship but I saw it was difficult, then really impossible to live with everything in my brain and heart.”
She exhaled. “Now, when he saw my action to end the marriage he was filled with remorse and regret and apologies. But it’s too late. I told him to move out. Sent him home to his mama. He bothers me everyday in his childlike whining way but it’s over. I can handle it. I am strong and know what I want in my life. My family is very supportive of my decision.”
“Good for you. In China it’s about saving face. Fake face lies. Appearances. You’ve realized growth and self-respect. Some discover their courage, take control of their lives and some don’t.”
“I am not living the lie anymore. I feel free.”
“You discovered courage and accepted responsibility for your life. I am happy for you. Your heart-mind is calm. Be well.”
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